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September 11 35111/514. The natural flow of the week was broken tonight as I had a piece of chicken pie for dinner. No pork or fish, so to compensate I had some more crab as a snack with a bit of bread that I brought home from the shop. We have mostly new staff in the shop now, as I've lost the best of the old staff. Stabz has gone to work in the Pathology lab at the hospital, rummaging through people's body fluids and tissues, Tache has gone to university to learn to become a textile designer and the Boy Axel has plunged (literally) head first into the world of exclusively male adult entertainment on DVD. He is what I believe they call a 'twink' in those circles, and will unlikely ever know the pleasures of Mingling with Eve.
The latest crop of employees, especially when you consider the fact that they presented better at interview than their rivals, are frightening proof of the dangers to human intelligence of adding lead to petrol over the last fifty years or whatever. I am depressed, disillusioned and come home every evening feeling spiritually bruised and brutalised. And what's most worrying is the fact that most of the new crop are what we call ~'furriners'~, or people who have at least one ancestor who comes from a town more than three miles away.
This part of the country spent most of the last two thousand years in a rigid state of isolation from the rest of the country, leading to an unhealthy level of inbreeding. If a sheep wandered into a crowd of twelve people the gene-pool would actually shrink. And the sheep would in all likelihood write a tragic life story book in later years, partly to exorcise the totally unjustified guilt and self hatred which tormented its adult life but also to get a banging great advance from a publisher and an interview on breakfast telly. That's how bad it got.
So when the roads out of the river valley were opened up and the railways came, new people arrived, slowly and hesitantly at first, but nature eventually took its course and most of the deformities and handicaps were gradually bred out. We owe a lot to the blind and the drunk. And especially the blind drunk. Now that we have received quite a broad base of genetic diversity from these outsiders, as we tend to call those with legs of equal length and both eyes facing approximately forward, I hope for great things in the world that my grandchildren will grow into. But for now I shall despair. And wallow in bitterness. Comments (3)
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